Rise Of The Scarecrow
by La Fantasma de la Obra
Summary: Sequel to Scarecrow's Nightmare- This story picks up from their arrival in Gotham and details their budding romance (if you'd call it that) and rise to infamy. Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman franchise, nor its characters.
1. A Thing of Nightmares

Sweaty, and light-headed, Kala fell backwards. She bounced once on the satin covered bed before settling on her back, her hair sprawled around her head like a halo. More aware of her own beauty now, she wore nothing but a few pieces of jewelry. The insecure, teenage mental patient was far behind her. She had blossomed into a beautiful, confident twenty. The Joker's death, the burning of Arkham, her stint in a farmhouse, all seemed so long ago.

As she caught her breath, she rolled to her stomach, propped up on an elbow, and ran her other hand through her untamed hair. The T.V. lit up before her.

A brunette reporter was speaking, standing in front of flashing patrol cars. "Join us for more details on the story of our nightmares. While many hoped for peace after the passing of Gotham's premiere crime lord, they are learning that peace is far from the truth. As the reign of the Scarecrow intensifies, a new, unknown threat is leaving a bloody trail of its own. Who could this new threat be, and are they working together? This and more, when we come back. Veronica Vale. Channel 7, news at eleven."

"Perfect timing." She noted, turning to glance at the man behind her.

Dr. Jonathan Crane lay propped against the large, mahogany headboard, with only a corner of the sheet pulled across his lap for cover. He set the remote on the nightstand, and took a drag of his newly lit cigar. His jaw was hard, and his body scarred.

As it turned to commercial, Kala crawled back up the bed and to him. He looked regal, and the room was so darkly elegant that she thought the scene could be an ad for a classy cologne. "If they're already on to me, shouldn't I just come out already?"

He shook his head, his icy eyes moving from the screen to her. "What do people fear most?" She shrugged. "The unknown." He answered, laying his cigar on the edge of the crystal ash tray. "We're going to drag this out for as long as possible. We're not going to let the police OR the public rest in knowing who they're looking for."

She understood. "Like a child...Children aren't afraid of the actual darkness; they're afraid of what might be in the dark." Her twisted eyes twinkled at him.

"Exactly…That was rather poetic." He'd grown more accustomed to her, and spoke more often. Their sex life had grown past sedatives and restraints. A lot had happened that year, beginning with their arrival in Gotham.


	2. Falcone Mansion

Kala remembered arriving at a large, modern mansion on a hill, outside the city. She'd slept part of the way, still weary from the drugs she'd been given the night before. She stirred when the truck rolled to a stop at a gate and fully woke when it rumbled up a driveway. The view was incredible; the whole Gotham skyline was visible, twinkling in the night sky.

Dr. Crane parked it, and got out, quickly shutting the door behind him. She followed suit, and helped him unload the bags. The lights were on in the house, and there was movement. Two figures came out, and he spoke to them as she wandered close to the fence to look out at the city. One of the men took bags inside, while the other got in the truck, and drove away. She wondered who they were, but knew, at this point, to not question anything.

When they finally went inside the house, she was surprised by the décor. There was a mix of mahogany and glass, old and new, light and dark. It was contemporary yet classic, and, everything in there was top of the line. The floor they entered on was open concept, so she could see that the kitchen was state of the arc. The glass wall of the living room boasted a great view, including a balcony complete with a hot tub.

"Gaudy, isn't it?" He grimaced at the place, but didn't seem unfamiliar with it. "While temporary, of course... I'll make changes."

She stretched and rubbed her neck. Her legs were cramped from the hours in the car. "What now?" Kala asked. "I'm assuming there's a bedroom in here." She remarked, before realizing how it sounded.

He didn't react to her comment, which she was used to. Instead, he turned to the door where one of the men was waiting. They whispered briefly before he left, and Jonathan locked the door. "Perhaps we can fit more in today than I'd thought. Our guest has arrived earlier than anticipated."

"Guest? The guy who just left?" Once again, her question wasn't acknowledged. He seemed to start a different conversation, of his own.

"You're gifted you know, and not using gifts is wasteful. Follow me please." Dr. Crane said as he led Kala around the corner, down a back staircase, and to a large door. He withdrew a key from his coat pocket to unlock it, revealing a large, dark room. After a switch was flipped, industrial, fluorescent lights buzzed to live. The room was wall to floor cement. One thing was in the very center of the room; a chair with someone seated in it. "Time is another thing we shouldn't be wasting, so, today I want you to start practicing. I want to see what you can REALLY do, and we'll go from there." As they approached the man, she realized that he was bound and gagged. "This is Mr. DiAngelo. He's, say, a crime CONTRACTOR. He doesn't do the dirty work, but he buys and sells the thugs who do, and lately, he's been causing me some trouble. I WAS going to handle this myself, but I see it is a prime learning opportunity."

Her mind began racing through the possibilities of what he could mean.

"We're going to begin with a small, manageable task- Kill him." He didn't blink.

"What?"

"I said, Kill him."

"I heard you…but I've never KILLED anyone."

"False: you did the night of the fire."

"In self defense!"

"There's a first time for everything, isn't there?" His hand brushed her side, and his eyes gave her a look that was both scary and sexual. She wondered if he was also alluding to their night in the barn just a few days prior. It sent a shiver down her spine and calmed her protest.

"But…I don't see any weapons."

He exhaled. "You ARE the weapon."

Her breath hitched in her throat. "B-but I don't even know how to channel that willingly."

"Shhhh-sh-sh." He pressed his slender finger to lips. "That's what I'm here for." Before she could react, he stepped behind her. She got good look at the man in the chair. He was clearly struggle with the restraints. There was audible grumbling through the tape. His eyes were scared, like a prey animal. Neither of the two knew for sure if he was going to die in that chair that night. What was left of her conscience went wild, trying to get her to walk or run away. The crimes were piling up quickly, and she was already in too deep. Looking into the eyes of this person, criminal or not, he was human. He might have a family or something. She didn't particularly WANT to hurt him, but she was more concerned with not disappointing Jonathan. For that reason, she tried to relax, and settled on doing her best, regardless of the outcome.

"Imagine the night that Arkham burned. Take yourself back to that smoky cell. Think about what you felt: the panic, anxiety, terror even. Think about all your senses; hearing screams, smelling blood, touching that blade. Remember the dark. Remember that sensation of fight or flight. Remember the pain of that fall." His voice was smooth, monotone, unaffected by the violent scene he described.

As she spoke, Kala's whole body tensed. He'd painted such a vivid picture for her to revisit. Her heartbeat sped up, as she began to experience that intense fear again.

He watched, and paced around her. "Good…You're back there…" His voice trailed off. "Take all of those feelings, sensations, and bottle them. Picture that memory as energy. I think you can release this energy. It'll make you feel better, I'll bet." While he whispered in her ear, he made a concerted effort to avoid touching her, just in case.

She nodded, her eyes closed, and swallowed hard. Her fingers scratched anxiously at her palms, while in fists.

"All you have to do, is put your hand on him, and transfer that negative energy. Think of a fog flowing from your mind into his; like poison."

Kala only hesitated a moment. Feelings mounting, she needed an escape. She opened her eyes only long enough to locate the man in front of her, then put her hand on his head. Their prisoner's eyes opened widely, but he didn't make a sound. She didn't feel much, regardless of how she struggled to send a surge. After a moment, she withdrew her hand and turned to her mentor. His face read disgust. She'd failed. His eyes were cold, and his jaw locked hard. The features sent her back to another time; a time in which she'd been chased through a cornfield at midnight. The time that came to mind was a childlike night-terror of the monster "getting her." Her mind got fuzzy, her eyes turned dark, and her breathing sped up. She began to feel something halfway between a tingle and an ache, building in her chest. With a newfound strength, she returned to the man before her and grasped at his temples.

The victim's eyes went white, and his veins began to pulse to the surface. He screamed for a moment before it turned to gasping. As Kala felt a surge through her, he began twitching, seizing violently. There was a climax of sorts that resulted in him going stiff and Kala being ejected back a few feet. She hit the cold, concrete floor and skin. Although she'd hit her head, overall, she felt like a weight had been lifted off of her. Then came the nausea and the dizziness. She struggled to stand, and her hand immediately went to hold her head.

The criminal had something like foam spilling from a corner of the duct tape over his mouth. His hair was almost singed, and his eyes were still wide open. His expression reminded her of someone who witnessed a driving mistake and knew he was about to get in an accident. His body was the key though; limp. Her eyes widened as she was brought back to somewhat of a reality. "How…?"

"The human mind can only take so much."

She reached to his neck to feel for his pulse. There was nothing. "He's dead." Horror set in. She'd killed someone in cold blood, no reason other than training to hurt more people.

"Congratulations." Dr. Crane started towards the door. "Don't worry about the mess, I'll send someone for clean up."

While she wanted to sit down on the floor to process, she definitely did not want to be left alone in a dank, dark basement, with a fresh corpse. Although uneasy in more ways than one, she caught up to him, and was relieved when he shut, and locked the door behind them.

"Now you can go to bed, if you'd like. Your room is on the second floor. It's feminine, WAS Falcone's daughter's, but don't worry. I've had the linens changed." She was disappointed when he went in the opposite direction. Some twisted part of her was hoping that her bags would have been taken to the same room as his.


End file.
